#Archivist! Dick

[autisticrosewilson]

An Excerpt from my TMA Au

Ft. Archivist! Dick, Spiral! Jason and Steph, and Stranger/Beholding Cass! TW for broken bones and horror themes, canon typical esoterica @perseus-jackass thought you'd like this!

"WHAT IS GOING ON!" Dick trips through the winding halls of the Head Institute, skidding to a halt in front the heap of limbs sprawled on the ground, bent in weird positions even by his standards.

Jason wriggles around on rubbery bones while Steph laughs at him, hanging upside down from her trapdoor in the ceiling.

"Humans are so...fleshy." he complains. "They break too easily." He wriggles his awkwardly bent limbs, and Dick can hear the broken bones grinding together under the skin. He tried to breathe through the nausea.

"Are you...okay?" It's a nasty break, multiple even, but Jason doesn't seem pained, and he's still not-human enough that his patron might lend a hand.

Cass, whose crouched oddly on top of a nearby table stares with wide unblinking eyes, studying the state of him. "Looks fine." The canned audio of the radio she's using as voice box crackles and cuts abruptly.

That's not reassuring, Cass's limbs look like a poly-jointed dolls on the best of days. "Steph, can you, um, help with this?" He looks to the blonde whose moved onto positioning Jason's limbs into increasingly strange positions.

"Why would I do that?" She seems occupied trying to...spell Jason's name with his limbs? What the fuck.

He doesn't get paid enough for this. Actually now that he thinks about it, Ra's doesn't pay him at all these days. No point paying an employee who can't quit and already lives with you.

[navree]

sam's better than me because if some lady pretended to be my friend only to drag me to a haunted mall in order to shove me, against my will, into a world experiencing the aftermath of the apocalypse all because SHE just didn't want to go back to where she originally came from in the first place, i'm not doing jack shit. let the archivist eat her or put her back into the original tma verse, i don't give a shit. 'oh but baby jack' fuck them kids too, i'm not falling into a hell mouth for a baby i met one time and his lying not-mom who was about to kill me, the eye monster could get baby jack to statement himself to death too for all i care.

[dickarchivist]

Tell Me Again.

Wolffe × Fem!Reader, new relationship

Word count: ~1700

MINORS BEGON 🔞

Contents and Warnings: n s f w 18+, Minors DNI, small fight resulting in minor cuts and bruises, vague hints of an abusive ex, fingering, counter sex, riding, unprotected PiV sex, Wolffe being protective of you, Wolffe being soft, Mando'a lesson. Fluffy smut, how nice.

Summary: After a fight with friends, you wear a few bruises with pride. Wolffe comes home for shore leave, and teaches you a few words in Mando'a while tending to your needs.

Mando'a used: Mesh'la (beautiful, pretty. Used as a pet name). Cyare (beloved, loved, popular. Used as an improper pet name, corrected by Wolffe). Cyar'ika (darling, sweetheart. Used as a pet name).

Author's notes: A continuation of the "Don't Stop on my Account" fic, which can be found [here].

Oh, to be in the hands of a hot man as you give him words of affirmation. This ended up in directions I didn't think it would, I was planning on it just being fluff, but then it became double smut, akin to the first of this series.

You'd gotten more used to the comings and goings of your favorite clone commander. Wolffe still kisses you when he leaves in the mornings, tells you how he looks forward to your next moment together. You've caught him trying to sneak out a few times since the first time you caught him, but you've succeeded in getting him to be more upfront about when he has to go for a while.

Your friends have been warning you again, however. "There's no guarantees." "We just don't want you to get hurt when he stops showing up." "There wouldn't be anyone to tell you if he died or not." "All you have is physical." "Honey just let him go, find a real man, not one of those credit a dozen toy soldiers."

You get into a full out fist fight with the one who calls Wolffe a toy soldier. It takes the others to separate you, you've never had that kind of impulse before but it made your blood boil and you couldn't help but wind up a punch. It's a new sensation for you, looking in your bathroom mirror and seeing the shiner and split in your lip.

You've come home with these in the past, but instead of the fear you felt in the past, you somehow feel proud of these marks. You got them defending the man you care about, and not from the one who was supposed to care about you.

You discard your top and pants, checking yourself for any major injuries. Few small bruises starting to bloom, some scraps, but all told nothing serious. You're about to turn on the water in the refresher when you hear the front door of your flat slide open.

"Mesh'la, you home?" There's a flutter in your chest at the sound of Wolffe's voice. Even among other clones, you feel like you could pick him out among them.

"In here!" You go to grab some concealer, but hesitate. These are badges of honor for you this time, why would you hide them? You turn around to stride out, but Wolffe is already there.

His eyes go from soft to shock, then anger, and for just a second you think it's aimed toward you. "Who did this? Who hurt you? I'll kill them."

You laugh, much to both of your surprise. He crossed to you, hands rough but surprisingly gentle around your face, "This isn't funny. You're hurt. Shoulda been here..."

"I got into a fight with someone because they called you a toy soldier, Wolffe. Trust me, they're worse off than I am."

You're starting to like this shocked face of his. Wolffe blinks down at you, really looking at the bruise around your eye, the pad of his thumb ghosting across your lip, just light enough to feel it. He takes your hands, looking at your bruised knuckles, smirking a little, "Kept your thumb out like I showed you?"

"Threw a mean punch like you showed me," you smirk up at him, and he gives you an impressed look as he sets his hands on your hips. "Like what you see Commander?"

Wolffe chuckles a little, kissing the corner of your mouth, "Of course Mesh'la, I'm lookin at you."

"What does that mean?" You try to steal a real kiss, but Wolffe pulls away a little with a husky chuckle and your breath hitches softly. You adore that sound.

"What does what mean?"

"Mesh'la... you call me that a lot, what does it mean?"

There it is again, that husky chuckle. This time, paired with kisses against your neck, making one hand grip the bathroom counter behind you as the other cards through the hair at the nape of Wolffe's neck. "It's Mando'a. Means beautiful. Pretty. It means you, Mesh'la."

You moan softly, lulling your head to the side as Wolffe sucks a hickey into your neck. He comes off you with a pop and blows on the newly forming dark spot. It makes you moan again, and your hips move forward in Wolffe's hands. "Is there a word for handsome?"

"Why? You wanna call me handsome?" Wolffe lifts you with ease and sets you on the edge of the counter. He moves forward a step and you open yourself for him, hooking your legs around his waist to bring him nearer. As his hand runs along your inner thigh, he answers you, "Don't know of one, Mando'a doesn't have gendered words like basic."

"Teach me..." your words are breathy already and he hasn't even touched you yet.

"Teach or touch?" There's two fingers stroking the front of your small clothes, making you whine, and Wolffe can't help a light laugh, "So tough a second ago, what happened?"

"Wolffe..." you whine again, hands holding his shoulders as your body shakes at even the touchs through thin fabric. You're starting to ache, needing more, "Do both, but touch first, please, touch first..."

"Kriff... you're wet, soaked through your panties already?" when you nod at his words, Wolffe walks his fingers under the thin fabric and presses a finger directly to your swollen clitoris. You jump, and he laughs, the rumble low in his throat, "no fight left?"

His fingers start to work you slowly, swirling your slick through your folds. Wolffe's going slow on purpose, you can tell, but it feels so good you don't want to rush him. It feels like a reward.

There's desperation creeping into your voice, your hips move forward to meet Wolffe's hand, "More..."

"More what, Mesh'la?" But he knows, he's already giving you what you desire. His hand moves lower within your folds, touching your entrance with teasing strokes before two fingers dip into your slick waiting walls, "This what you wanted pretty girl?"

Wolffe kisses the side of your head as you lean forward into his chest. His thumb works your clit as his fingers curl and pump inside you. "Wolffe... oh- mmm... Wolffe..." your legs open a little wider for him, and you close your eyes as you lean against his chest. You're panting hard, fast breaths as he brushes that sweet spot within and you see stars.

Your climax hits suddenly, and as you cry out, Wolffe's arm caresses the back of your head. He holds you safely against him as your legs tremble, clenching on his fingers as his movements slow. You're so dizzy, head light in ecstatic pleasure. You finally get a kiss out of Wolffe, a proper one. It hurts for a moment, but you've wanted that kiss since you saw him in your doorway, it was worth the wait.

"What's... what's Mando'a for "you are loved"?"

There's a pause, before Wolffe speaks softly to you, kissing your shoulder and neck as punctuation, "Cyare. Beloved... sometimes used for popular."

When his hand leaves your folds, you're worried that maybe you pushed those words too soon, but as he lifts you from the counter and removes your small clothes, you know it's anything but. Wolffe carefully lays you onto your bed, then dofts the rest of his clothing to lay beside you. He doesn't mount right away this time, not like you'd become accustomed to. No, his hands trail down, eyes following, tracing patterns onto your skin.

You tangle your legs with his, closing what little gap there was, and palm his length, pumping the stiff length in your hand. Wolffe growls and stops your hand, looking into your eyes, "Why'd you ask that?"

"If I can't call you handsome, I want to call you loved, because that's what you are, Cyare." Your cheeks are hot when you say it, but you know it's true.

"That's not how you say that."

"Did I pronounce it wrong?"

"Yes, but you're going for the pet name, yeah?" You nod, and can't help but find this whole thing endearing you further to him. A man of his word, he touched first, and taught second. "It'd be cyar'ika, then. Adding "'ika" makes it an endearment."

"Then I love you, Cyar'ika."

There's hope in his eyes, soft, loving hope, as if he'd convinced himself you were playing a joke on him when you'd said it before. "Tell me again."

You move on him, getting on top of Wolffe and straddling his hips. His hands rest on your thighs, and you share a moan as you take in his length until you're seated flush against him. "I love you, Cyar'ika."

As you swivel your hips, panting again already, the Commander watches from below. He looks dazed, eyes not leaving your face, there's disbelief and pleasure there, "Again."

"I love you."

You start to bounce on him a little, rolling your hips, clenching tight around his length, hands pressed to his chest for support. Wolffe bites his bottom lip and bucks into your tight walls, drawing a cry from your lips. Your repeat yourself again, "I love you."

As you bounce on Wolffe's length, you repeat the words over and over, gripping his chest hair, your legs shaking as you climax again. Wolffe isn't far behind you, with a few more hard thrusts his hips buck sporadically until he grunts, spending himself within your walls. You fall onto his chest, panting with him as he puts his arms around you in a protective embrace.

Wolffe is quiet for a moment after. You've since returned to your sides, your back pressed into his chest, his arms secure around you, legs tangled together. He presses a kiss to the cone of your ear, whispering, "You mean that..?"

As you turn your head to see him, you steal a kiss before he can pull away to spare your split lip. "I love you Wolffe. I love you, and I mean it."

Wolffe kisses you properly, still careful of the split in your lip. His hands rub your back, the curve of your hip, he's careful with you in a way he hadn't been before. He doesn't say it in words, but his actions tell you for him. Wolffe loves you too. As he nuzzles your heads together, tucking you close to him, he whispers a word you know now, and it makes you smile against his shoulder, "Cyar'ika..."

Tag List!: @wolffegirlsunite @anxiouspineapple99 @wizardofrozz (sorry if I missed anyone or added someone by accident! Not used to people asking to be tagged in stuff haha)

[weil-weil-lautre]

So far tens of millions of Americans can understand Ahab. They have worked under such men. A smaller but not insignificant number have gone through his experiences. The Diesel engine and now atomic energy face the vast majority with the same problem that he faced: the obvious, immense, the fearful mechanical power of an industrial civilization which is now advancing by incredible leaps and bringing at the same time the mechanization and destruction of human personality. Men who are thinking like that, classes of people in a nation who are thinking such thoughts, are being steadily prepared for desperate action. If now there descends upon them a violent catastrophe that ruins them and convinces them that the life they have been living is intolerable and the grave doubts that have previously tormented them are justifiable, then they are going to throw aside all the traditional restraints of civilization. They are going to seek a new theory of society and a program of action and, on the basis of this theory and this program, they are going to act.

CLR James, Mariners, Renegades, and Castaways: The Story of Herman Melville and the World We Live In

[imreallyonthishellsite]

Hahaha again!! Part 3

[vergess]

Asexual people: /writing fanfic about asexual characters having sex for any number of complex reasons, up to and including 'I think it would be funny or hot.'

Fucking assholes: Ummmmm WHY are you FREAKS going around SEXUALIZING THAT MAN don't you know the CREATORS said he never fucks and fanfiction is ALL ABOUT the canonical vision!!

[frogs-running-in-circles]

i’m really out here collecting silly little gay characters like pokémon

[heartofjasmina]

Vanitas looks like a dream to Noe, full of Noes cock and bleeding from the neck- his fang marks. "Finally," is all Noe can focus enough to say.

[jacksintention]

Automaton angel

[danny-chase]

Me: i don't need another discord server, I'm distracted enough as it is

Also me: BUT what IF i MADE the discord server for MY niche interest and organized it exactly how i wanted and made rules against any content i didn't want to see, what about THAT hMM

[violasgamingpalace]

Fallout 2 is so painful. It's every awful interaction I've ever had with a misogynistic nerd. I heard someone describe it as drawing a Dick on Fallout 1 and that really is what it feels like oh my god.

"It's vitally important for my immersion that every conversation with a Female PC involves a reference to fucking"

"I mean it just makes sense, it's realistic! All a woman has to do to get anything she wants is sleep with a man! Obviously!"

You know somehow Fallout 1 was able to be a rated M game without being made by 14 year olds! And this is just the "Aged Cum Stain" painfulness of the game, I'm totally ignoring the baffling, Everything else, painfulness!

[dickarchivist]

Yall really like them hot boys of Grave Squad huh? As a lil treat, when I hit 50 followers, who do you wanna see a Pin Up of first? (sfw with not safe version under the cut)

[whore-ibly-hot]

THROUGH OUR LORD AND SAVIOR @yanderereblogs THE FACULTY HAVE BEEN FOYND AND RETURNED TO US! PRAISE BE TO REBLOGGERS, SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL ARCHIVISTS!

Yandere Boarding School Part 2, (Faculty)

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Multiple yanderes, non-con touching, dub-con, perverted thoughts, obsession, bullying, masturbation, aphrodisiacs, general perversion, dry-humping, voyeurism, controlling behaviors, typical yandere stuff, breeding, smoking, horny posting.

(AN: Part Two has been reuploaded after a takedown, godspeed @yanderereblogs for saving it! Mmmmmm, old men. Everyone pictured as a student is OF LEGAL AGE TUMBLR MODS HOP OFF MY DICK.

Background: Thinking about a Headmasters Son or Daughter!Reader at a private boarding school. For a Fem!Reader, perhaps you're just visiting daddy for the season while he's running the school, or maybe you've been bad, and need more supervision. For a Masc!Reader, it could be the same case, however, with Ridgemoore Academy being an all male school, this makes it easier to imagine a world where reader is allowed in the school. Now, let's focus on the faculty...

◇ Mr. Joel Murphy, who teaches the majority of the 'life skills' classes at the school. The school being all-boys is very traditional, and teaches things like game hunting and orienteering, which is why they hired a manly-man like Joel. If only they knew what a bitter grump he is. An ex-sheriff of the nearby town, he decided to leave the force after realizing there was no real crime in the small, privileged town, and decided to take up an easy job at the school. Unfortunately, he realized his love for camping and hunting is warped into what he considers 'frilly shit for rich little boys'. He's gruff, barking out orders and easily been exasperated at the sheer incompetence of the boys.

"Shoot one quail, and these boys act like they killed a bear..."

He thought about retiring from yet another job, as living on the ritzy campus just doesn't feel like home to him, and lord knows he's not fond of his job. However, things change when you arrive. Whether you're a delinquent or a little more sweet and obedient, he likes you. If you're a delinquent, he likes seeing a little hell-raiser kick up some shit at the fancy school. If you're sweet or shy, he gets protective. Nice youngins' like you shouldn't be thrown in amongst these spoiled weasels.

He's sure to help you if you need it, a gentle hand on your back as his burly chest presses against your shoulder blades, adjusting your position against the butt of a rifle. Standing by while you're on hands and knees trying to light a fire, making sure none of the boys are trying to get a look at your assessts. Not that he isn't going to, but he justifies it to himself as just making sure your school shorts/skirt is regulation. He's protecting your modesty. After class hours, come to him with any issues, or shit, even his room. He'll put on some coffee and ask you to help him create a curriculum that 'reaches the kids', as your father instructed him to. It's cozy, the fancy school adnorments thrown away for medals and plaques, national parks posters and a few old family photos. He'll keep you tucked in on his warm couch while he strays from curriculum talk to stories of his time in the scouts and on the force. Tells you about how much he loves just... laying out under the stars with somebody special, to sit around a campfire with friends, then slyly ask is you've ever had somebody to do that with. He knows you're younger than him, and he struggles with the idea that you won't want him cause of it, so for now, he'll bask in the feeling of seeing you curled up in his room, keeping the idea of picking you up and having you accept his cock to himself. If you can get pregnant, his fists his cock to the thought of that too. He's not some horned up boy, he wants you in the long term.

He looooooves the yearly orienteering final, in which the students in the class are made to go on an actual camping trip. It's possible a tent will 'accidentally' go missing, leaving you to bunk with him. Don't worry, nothing bads gonna happen while you've got this burly bear of a man practically spooning you, warm gut from his dad-bod pressed against you as he tries his best to make sure he doesn't scare you.

"Sorry those damn boys left your tent back at the school, kiddo. I... wouldn't be suprised of one of them did it on purpose, little bastards." He grumbles, hoping you'll take the hint to separate yourself from those immature preps and stick to being with a man who can treat you right. "Remember that lesson from a couple weeks ago, on body heat? I know it's awkward, but we've only got one sleeping bag. You feel like you can trust this old man to keep you warm?" Unfortunately for his ego and trying to keep down his urges, the trees aren't going to be the only wood in the morning.

◇ Mr. Paul Burton, head of the arts department. He's so over this, a once decent artist who dabbled in pop art and theatre only to stop getting gigs and be black-listed after offending several more famous artists, calling their work 'sell-out chic', he's now a burn-out who smokes and ignores his students all class. He's passionate about art, but frankly he doesn't want tow aste his time teaching when he knows these rats are taking his class for easy credit. He's only teaching here to utilize the facilities and studios so he's not living in a van in the Walmart parking lot. A mix of hippie culture, live and let live and cynical burnout, he's so. Fucking. Done. But... maybe you change that for him.

You're interesting, a headmasters child who doesn't fit in to your fathers perfect mold? Maybe a rebellious student who goes against the grain of this perfect school. Or a blooming ray of sunshine in this dark den of privilege and conformist curriculum for the future lawyers of the world. Either way, he's found a new muse. See him after class.

He'll be thrilled if you're into art, let him guide you. Tell him your favorite artists and he'll tell you when he threw up on there shoes by accident in his hey-day. Gossip about a student you don't like, he'll listen while he smokes and tell you about how that guys mom hit on him. He loves to gossip, but he loves to watch you create more. The way your hands shape a vase or brush across a canvas light a fire in him he hasn't felt in a while. He's more willing to forgo the age gap between you, while it's never something he considered before, he knows he's not gonna let go of the one thing that makes him feel like he lives again. Besides, he's always been unconventional.

He'll have you stay after class, maybe he'll have you pose nude for a painting, assuring you it's fins, it's platonic, it's just for the love of art. He chooses and extra large canvas, it lets him paint while he relieves himself as you explain you're getting cold. He'll put on some artsy, silent, black and white film from the 30s, and while you watch and slowly realize it's pornographic, He'll grin to himself while he watches you flush. He'll ask you all sorts of questions about your thoughts on the film, the actors, what they're doing. He really wants to figure out how experienced you are. "What do you think of the composition? It's really carnal, you know?" He puts out his cigarette. "I'm glad I can show this to you, you'll actually appreciate it. You're not giggling like an idiot when some guys penis is out on the screen." He groans, thinking of his other students.

He does actually like one student, though they make an odd pair. Joseph's easily spooked and shy personality clashes with the brash older man's, but he's glad to have someone he can think of as a protege. Someone who loves art as much as him, but get isolated for it. He was doing a portfolio look over when Joseph accidentally turned in the wrong folder. Joseph feels like he might die as Mr. Burton, a man he admires, flips through nude pictures of the object of his affection, and at a distance no less. A part of him wants to rip it away, but he needs this scholarship.

"Please, please, sir! I-I'll never do it again, it was just a phase, I didn't mean for you to see-"

"They're good." Mr. Burton flips through the folder. "Real good. You could really get somewhere with these, maybe not in the fine art scene, but... tell you what." He adjusts his glasses and leans forward on his desk. "We'll do a special session, you and me, yeah? I'll get your friend here, and I'll vouch for your integrity so you can take some less-" he purses his lips. "Stalker-ish pics- Jesus, kid, is that taken from a tree?"

☆ Anatoli Sidorov, probably the best paid staff given how they got him here. He's a Russian coach for a former Olympic Russian swim team, and he joined the prestigious American school to escape shame after he 'resigned' post a doping scandal which he swears he wasn't involved in. (Whether he was or not is your choice.) Still, he's led the boys swim team and track team to nationals several times, and he's a legend among the wealthy benefactors of the school. He's outwardly very serious, hard on his team but respectful of them. He doesn't put up with any unruly or unsportsmanlike behavior from his boys, at least not what he can see. He's very nice deep down, intellectual and funny, though he still struggles with American humor and English.

He adores you when he meets you, milking about with the other students before class. You seem genuinely social, and wanting to fit in. The idea someone could be so welcoming warms his heart. Deep down, he misses his home, and he misses the friends he once had. You're warm, and he likes that. Not to mention, you're a looker. He's embarrassed, especially if you're male, seeing as he never considered swinging the other way, and much less with someone younger. But he can't help but stare when your pretty tits bounce as you run, or the way those jogging shorts hardly conceal your bulge. He even pulled you to the side one to scold you for not wearing regulation gym clothes, before realizing they were and awkwardly sending you back into class. That was a moment of self-reflection for him.

He's not necessarily outwardly softer to you, you might even think he doesn't like you, given that he has you stay late to run or jump rope, or constantly pulls you into time out mid-game. It's all for your own good, trust him. He doesn't like the way some of the boys were looking at you, and he could tell Evan was a only a play away from trying to practically hump you while trying to 'get the ball'. He's made Harrison, who he loves as a player, run laps for talking to you for only a few minutes. He hates feeling like a jealous boy, but he can't help it. You make him feel young.

He establishes a private locker room area for you, since you're the headmasters kid and not an official student. Besides, you're clearly being harassed by the others! So, he's got a nice little closet for you, with a not suspicious air freshener that's not a hidden camera, and a private key only you have access to. (Technically that's true, he just has a bypass key for himself.) He'll snatch a pair of boxers or some panties, slipping them into his track coat for later. Eventually, he'll tell you he's worried you aren't able to catch up to the others, given that you arrived later and started the gym curriculum later than the others. He'll start having extra 'make-up' workouts with you, starting with stretching. One leg uo on the bar, you'll have to excuses his cold hand running along your thigh, or stroking over your chest as him just admiring how your strength and flexibility is evolving. He relishes the feeling of your body on his, groping you under the guise of training and resisting the urge to just slip aside your gym shorts and veg you to take him.

"Little star, part 'dem a little, there ve go." He keeps your legs parted as he works you into a position on your back, against the rubber mats the tumbling team had laid out. He lays just over you, pushing your legs back a little further with his arms, just far away enough to keep you from noticing his hard on, but enough to lightly press it against the plush swell of your ass. Good, let's just- fuck- hold. Let's hold."

☆ Kory Koffman, English teacher and part time librarian! The school outs so much effort into sports, both admin and students seem to forget about him. Hell, the library is used so little they fired the librarian, and he took it upon himself to try and care for the building himself. He's a sweet, shy man, who just wants to share his passion for literature with others. However, unlike Mr. Burton, he was never popular or famous, so he's content to keep to himself, but the loneliness does get to him.

When you wandered into his library one day, maybe looking for a book or seeking refuge from a hoarde ofadmirers, he was happy to welcome you into his little safe haven. He'll give you some warm tea from the little coffee machine he has set up, and sit you down. Let him help you find a book, or tell you about his creative writing class? He'd let you join, even late in the semester! It's not a very full class.

For the first time in his life, he finds himself craving the attention of another, of someone else's company, other than his books. He hasn't felt that need for connection since he was a boy, after his momma passed. He'll do anything to keep you there, and if reading isn't your thing, much to his chagrin, he'll add a DVD section to the library, but only good films and classic for you! No Adam Sandler, those movies are to overstimulating for poor Mr. Koffman.

As his feelings turn romantic, he's ashamed. You're a student, and he's a lonely old man, you deserve someone better, someone your age. However, the thought of you being with any of the many students who mock him in the halls or disrupt his class, the thought of hand you over to those-those imbeciles, hurts him. He wants you, and he's ashamed at the way his trousers go tight when you bend over to get a fallen book, or when you hand him his glasses after he misplaced them (again), the fact he just stares at your finger prints for awhile and refuses to clean the lens. He's not had sex in a long, long time, but he finds himself masturbating more than he ever did when he was younger. He'll watch library security footage openly, moaning and whimpering at his desk with no fear anybody will stop in, no one ever does but you. He wants you as his spouse, you already make his library, his home away from home seem brighter, imagine what you could do for his actual apartment.

"Oh, hello! It's good to see you, it's been a bit." He's a little bitter at that last statement, but adjusts his glasses and continues. "Just remember to stop by often, okay? I'd really, really hate to impose the late policy on you..."

☆ Atticus Critch, the schools latin instructor and head sponsor of student body, (not to mention the man in charge of detention), is a strict disciplinarian. He takes no nonsense from anyone, and despises the behavioral pardons given to boys like Evan or Harrison simply because they are athletes. Peter is obviously his favorite, and when he catches wind of the ways the boys around campus are speaking about you, he decides to take it upon himself to remove the distraction, by having Carter trail you and give you detention for minor inconveniences. Carter isn't particularly thrilled at always having to send you to detention instead of extorting you to get his rocks off, but he's hoping maybe he'll get to 'monitor' detention one of these days.

Initially, Mr. Critch has you doing small tasks, writing lines or organizing things, but soon he starts to see the appeal. If you're a good student for the most part, he's determined to keep you good, and away from all the vermin in this school. If you're bad, he's had plenty of experience in taming brats. He's open with his sexual desires, it his growing affection for you that makes him struggle.

If you've stayed out too late and broke curfew, you can spend detention on your knees, suckling his cock into the late hours. Maybe you've been running around with Tyler. He'll make you lay down on his desk and deny you your climax over and over again, asking 'if not making you cum' is what that boy does to you, never fully satisfying you. He'll make you beg to finish, and to promise you'll be good from now on.

"Come on, repeat it. Tell me you'll be good now, that you won't bother with BOYS-" He annuciates with a thrust, "When you have a man right here, whose willing to take time out of his day to discipline you!" One the amorous session is over though, he definitely softens, trying to prove he's more than a boy in many ways, including good aftercare. He'll dress your limp form back up in your uniform and walk you get you a cup of water from the fountain. "Only ten minutes till your detention is over, dear. Just sit there, take some time to reflect on how you got here." His tone is demeaning, but as he pets your scalp, his touch is so feather-light. Don't expect is to last into the next day though.

[sufficientlylargen]

Corrections

We here at Sufficiently Large Ndustries pride ourselves on our unwavering commitment to factual accuracy in all things.

Recently, it has come to our attention that certain details of this post, hereinafter referred to as the "Fuck Yeah Stick-Elf" post, or FYSE, seem to contradict the canon established by internationally-known author Jonald Ronald Rolkien Tolkien (h/t @elodieunderglass for explaining his full name).

Because of our unwavering commitment to factual accuracy in all things, we cannot possibly have made any mistakes, so we wish to issue several corrections to your understanding to demonstrate that we were correct all along:

Question: Don't the Gondorians call him Mithrandir?

Answer: Not all Gondorians.

Canonically, Tolkien notes that the people of Gondor use the Sindarin name Mithrandir (from mith "grey" and randir "random", hence "some random grey guy") for Olórin. However, Tolkien's references to this are always about Gondorian nobility or royalty, who did indeed call Stick-Elf Mithrandir. This is because they were kind of pretentious, like native English speakers who insist on correcting anyone who doesn't pronounce "Paris" as "pair-REE".

When six-year-old Faramir had nightmares and ran to his father calling out "I'm scared!", Denethor would correct him, saying "No, you feel echais", because he was a dick. Part of the reason why Gondor lost a lot of its ancient glory is because it had centuries of leaders who were like this.

The average Joeromir Schmoeromir on the streets of Gondor, however, just called him Stick-Elf.

Question: If this is set in the past and Éodan is from Rohan, how could Gondor have a king?

Answer: It's not that king.

Suzannethor (the Archivist) mentions that Stick-Elf brought fireworks for the king's birthday, but Gondor's last king, King Eänur, died in T.A. 2050, almost five centuries before Rohan was founded in T.A. 2510 (special thanks to @thinkinginquenya for pointing out this discrepancy).

The answer is that FYSE is set in T.A. 2703, well after Rohan's founding; When the characters refer to "the king", they're not referring to royalty, but rather to the famous Númenórean musician Aarondil Préslion, often called "The King of Chant and Lyre" or just "The King" for short.

At this point there weren't many Men with enough Númenórean blood to have the sort of longevity that Aarondil had, leading to rumors that he was secretly an elf, hence his stage name, Elvish Présli.

Some of his most famous songs, like "Jailhouse Dirge" and "You Ain't Nothin' But a Warg Dog" are still popular today. Olórin was particularly fond of "Blue Steel Shoes", a lively jig about plate mail maintenance, and this is why he brought fireworks to Présli's 90th birthday party.

Question: Why does Elrond say "here in the North" in Gondor?

Answer: Elrond is a very sleepy boi.

In FYSE, Elrond says "Here in the North", even though generally most surviving texts of Middle-Earth are Gondo-centric and use "The North" to refer to lands north of Gondor, like Arnor/Eriador or the Forodwaith.

However, Jenniforomir just woke Elrond up from a nap (she didn't realize this because elves sleep with their eyes open), and he's still slightly disoriented. He says "Here in the North" because he was dreaming about a pub he visited once in Annúminas (and he is slightly shaken because in the dream he had forgotten to wear clothes, he had an exam coming up that he hadn't known about, and very tiny orcs were juggling silmarils all over the place).

Question: Why would Elrond out Olórin as a Maiar?

Answer: He was already out.

Tolkien didn't mention this in the books, but Olórin travels around on horse with several Maiar Pride bumper stickers, including a plain Maiar pride flag, one that reads "Maiar tested, Valar approved", and one that reads "Maiarn't there a lot of us!". Elrond knows this, and so has no compunction telling random Gondorians that Olórin is a Maiar.

We hope that these clarifications will reassure you that we here at Sufficiently Large Ndustries have never said anything false, ever, in all directions and at all times.

[livingcuttingboard]

no bc anybody who says that jon sims turned out to be like this (an asshole, introvert, stiff, with the need to act unecessarly professional etc. )bc his grandma was overly condesending and/or neglectfull has never met ANYBODY raised by their grandparents. they just... are like this. its hard to adjust and honestly thats why i could never hate jon for his assholery in season 1 bc i know how it feels, being like that. trying to reprogram ur mind to be normal with ur peers, to accept that these people dont expect u to stand straight and speak and so u should stop excepting them to do so too.

like i just know he had to hammer it in his head that "no, my coworkers arent laughing bc of their lack of discepline and respect for me, tim just made a dick joke and i should find it funny aswell". most grandparents raise their grandkids to be neat and better than everyone. and once that child gets the power to actually use all skills their grandparents taght the, academic knowledge and life advice, its obvious they will fight for what they see as hard earned respect. like jonathan sims might have whole had 9 years to adjust to interacting with people without his grandmas infulence but he was never had power the position of the head archivist offered and honestly? with how everybody was treatin him in the later seasons (and he acted like he was used to it) that reach for power in season 1 was a well deserved break from the usual. bc i am sure that younger jon was the weakling,never to be respected or feared. and his grandma,like any grandma, raised him with the promise he would be great one day. and she was right.

like i love my grandma but the constant piting me against other kids assasinted any type of humbleness within me at the ripe age of 8

[gilverrwrites]

any dick grayson x reader smut fic recs? (i’m a sucker for roommate! x reader anything) 😭😭

I’m sorry I can’t think of any roommate tropes, tbh but Sketch Motel and Midnight Jerking by Dehydrated Turtle is a great one bed trope.

Mania by Erea I’m just a sucker for sex pollen stories.

Only Bought This Dress So You Could Take It Off by morgana_yennefer_burnham is a hot friends to lovers piece.

As you can probably tell, I almost entirely read fanfics on Ao3, so I miss a lot of stuff on here. My reblog karma is dogshit cause I don’t want to spam authors, but I’d highly recommend checking out the following writers if you haven’t already;

@hanasnx (stretches isn’t smut, but it is everything)

@killakalx (her bsf fics had me brain dead)

Very few put their back into it like @purple-obsidian. (Nonsense, please read Nonsense, if you read nothing else on this list, read Nonsense. It’s soft, fluffy, damn sexy and 110% Dick.)

And not a writer, more of an archivist, but I’m sure if you scroll long enough on @nightwingmania you’ll find something that you love.

And I presume you’re here cause you’ve read my works already, but I also, enjoy writing Dick from time to time. 💙